i've always been a daughter (but feathers are meant for the sky)
by thequeenofokay
Summary: Ward has been gone four and a half weeks. It's six AM, and she runs to the bathroom and retches into toilet. / / in which Skye is left behind but not alone.


**notes:**

+ finally coming back to this series! this is a prequel to "where the heart is", and it was meant to be a teeny tiny drabble but. y'know.

+ and i have one more bit of this series written and ready to be typed up, plus one more semi-planned.

+ anyway this is kind of important to me bc it shows that the way allie percieves her mother isn't necessarily always right.

+ title is, of course, from "home" by gabrielle aplin. seriously just listen to it on repeat while you're reading any of the fics in this series it's actually obligatory.

* * *

><p>Ward has been gone four and a half weeks.<p>

Well, gone is relative, because he is somewhere. He's out there.

Maybe, more accurate would be, it's been four and a half weeks since she realised he was Hydra. It's four and a half weeks since she fell out a plane with Coulson.

Six AM in the morning of day thirty two (if Ward were still around, this is when she would have to get up for training), and she runs to the bathroom.

With one hand she pulls her hair out of her face, the other holds the edge of the toilet to steady herself, and she retches into it.

Eventually, she sits back. She still feels a little queasy, but it's accompanied by a gnawing _dread_ in her stomach.

Now is probably when she should go down to the lab and get Simmons to do a few tests on her. She should find out what's wrong. If she's ill.

But she doesn't. She stays on the lino, leaning against the toilet. She already knows what's wrong.

She stands up. There's a medical kit in the supply room, and maybe, maybe she'll be able to get to it without either Fitz or Simmons interrogating her, but she'll have to go now, while at least Fitz will still be half asleep.

She makes it through the lab and into the supply closet before Simmons _accosts_ her.

'Need a hand?'

Skye jumps, sending a drawer of supplies flying.

'Nope,' she says, smiling too brightly.

'You're up early,' Simmons says.

'Not really,' Skye mumbles, continuing to rifle through drawers. She needs to be in and out as quick as possible, and hopefully Simmons won't pry.

'Oh,' Simmons says. 'Yes. I suppose, you used to...' She looks away, obviously feeling awkward, but Skye is just glad of the distraction. 'I'm sure Agent Triplett would be happy to train with you, if you asked him.'

Skye shakes her head, finally finding the right compartment. 'I'm good,' she says. 'But maybe I'll ask him later.'

Simmons beams, like she thinks she's helped Skye _heal_. They're all trying to help her heal. She's not sure what the team thought the relationship between her and Ward _was_, but they all seem to have gotten it into their heads that he somehow broke her heart.

Which he didn't.

(Except once or twice, between the hours of two and three in the morning, when she might have felt a little… damaged. Fractured.)

But a broken heart would imply she's _sad_. And she's not sad. She's _angry_.

'Do you need a hand?' Simmons asks. She takes a step forward, but Skye shakes her head aggressively.

'I'm good,' she says. Her hand closes around the thin box and she slips it up her sleeve. 'But thanks.' She pushes past a mildly confused Simmons, and runs for the bathroom again.

Inside, she closes the door, locks it, and leans against it for good measure. She shakes the test out of its box and stares at it. She doesn't need the instructions - she's done this before.

She's never been so sure of the answer, though.

Eight minutes pass, and she's right.

God, this is going to be an awkward conversation to have with Coulson.

She might as well get it over with, though.

By half seven, still in her pyjamas, she's standing outside Coulson's door. With a sigh, she finally knocks and enters.

He's already sitting at his desk, in a suit. Of _course_ he's already in a suit.

'Skye,' he says. 'You're up early. What can I do for you?'

She should probably have planned this.

She should probably have planned what she was going to do about this whole mess, but honestly, she's no idea.

She bites her lips. 'So,' she starts, 'the thing is. I'm pregnant.'

To his credit, Coulson only drops his pen, and then tries to cover it up by hitting his hand down after it.

'Pregnant?' he repeats (an octave or so higher than usual).

Skye nods, trying to keep her face serious, but there's an awful sort of ridiculousness to the situation. 'Yes.'

'You're sure?'

'Yep,' she says, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

Coulson stares at his pen. 'How,' he begins, and swallows, 'did that happen?'

Skye can't help herself. She grins. 'You really want me to?' she asks. 'Do you actually want me to explain how _babies are made_?'

'No,' Coulson says hastily. 'No, I mean -'

'Ward,' Skye interrupts, before he can dig his hole any deeper. 'I screwed Ward.'

Coulson nods slowly. 'I see.' He looks like he wants to ask more, like _was this before or after you knew he was Hydra?_

Skye is glad he doesn't. Mostly because the honest answer would be _both_.

She can justify the janitor's closet. She thought he'd been going to die. She can justify at the Providence base, too. She'd been scared, shaken by the whole Hydra reveal, thought she'd lost him again when she'd heard the Fridge had gone down, and then he'd opened up to her.

It's harder - much harder - to justify the times on the Bus on the way to LA. She tells herself it was to distract him, to keep up the pretense, or just a sort of goodbye.

She still did it.

She still knowingly screwed a Hydra agent against the control panel of the plane.

(She's not been able to look May in the eye since.)

'Do you know what you want to do about your situation?' Coulson asks.

Skye chews on her lip.

She didn't _want_ a baby.

She can't handle a baby. Not now, not living in a world that's literally hanging in the balance.

She didn't want a baby that would remind her of its father, that she would end up hating.

(That, of course, assumes that she hates Ward. And she's tried. She's angry. But he's proving hard to outright _hate_.)

'I'm keeping it,' Skye says, and there's a defiance in her voice that she didn't expect.

Coulson leans forwards slightly. 'Are you sure?' he asks. He's quiet, careful.

Skye nods. 'Yes,' she says. She hesitates. 'Will I be able to stay on the bus?'

Coulson smiles. 'Of course,' he says. 'You're family. So is your baby.'

.

.

.

Skye half expects whispers behind her back and awful stares.

She's wrong.

They don't judge.

And, once she's had _enough_ of them, the sympathetic looks stop, too.

('This is my choice,' she tells them. 'Stop pitying me for it.')

Simmons snatches up the role of doctor, insisting on tests and scans on a near daily basis, and binge reading parenting books so she can spout facts at Skye as she passes.

Fitz complains that a baby is going to make a mess, but is slowly baby-proofing the Bus without being asked.

Trip is an angel. He takes on her rapidly changing appetite, making supermarket runs at three in the morning, and doesn't flinch once when she spits out the food he makes her (his pancakes are wrong - not like the ones Ward made her).

May and Coulson are quietly supportive. They worry a little too much, maybe (Coulson tries to take her off field work from day one: this suggestion is met with a firm _no_).

There is something missing. It's big and gaping and Ward-shaped. But she can't dwell on it.

(He would have made such a good father.)

.

.

.

She sees him once. She's not showing, not quite, and for that she is eternally thankful.

It's a routine recon mission, and he was never supposed to be there. Their last confirmed sighting of him had been in Valparaiso, so they've no reason to believe he's going to turn up halfway across the world at a Hydra base outside Stockholm.

He's all the way across the hangar, but he spots her straight away.

'Get out,' Trip says from beside her. 'Run.'

Across the hall, she hears Ward shout her name. She doesn't need to be told twice.

She turns on her heel and sprints for the exit.

Or she would. But the base is an absolute maze, and within minutes she's totally, hopelessly lost and pretty sure she's going round in circles.

She can hear footsteps, and there's nowhere to hide.

She pulls out her gun, and Ward rounds the corner.

The look on his face is… desperate.

'What are you doing here?' he asks, glancing back. 'You should be gone.'

She blinks and takes a step away from him, confused.

'What?'

'You need to leave. Garrett is coming.'

She frowns. 'Why are you telling me this?'

His shoulders drop, expression falling into one of resignation. He sighs. 'You know why.'

She tries to protest, to say something about how she can protect herself, but he's pointing her towards the exit.

'That way. Now. Go.'

(Later, she's going to sit and stare at the wall, because he's just doing everything he can to stop her hating him, isn't he? He's just being so damn _difficult_.)

.

.

.

They go baby shopping when Skye has a month left.

Simmons has a list a mile and a half long of everything they need, and separates them out into two groups. She sends Coulson and May with Skye, while she takes Fitz and Trip.

Coulson and May, it turns out, are pretty clueless when it comes to trying to decipher Simmons' list. An attendant finds the three of them staring, bewildered, at cribs.

'Can I help?' she asks.

Skye looks from the list to the cribs. 'Which one would you recommend,' she asks, 'for a family that travels lots?'

The assistant is thoughtful for a second. 'This one,' she says. 'Compact, lightweight.' She smiles. 'Anything else I can help you with?'

Skye holds up her list again. 'Um. All of this?'

The assistant gives them a comforting smile. 'This your first time?' she asks Skye.

Skye nods.

'Well,' the assistant says. 'Good thing you've got your parents to help you out. Are you two looking forwards to being grandparents?' she asks.

'Yes,' Coulson says, too quickly, and Skye grins.

.

.

.

Her baby is born on a Sunday. Almost exactly on time.

It's been a strangely quiet few days. Normally they're trying to fend off Hydra from every angle, defending the few resources and recruits they have.

But for almost a week, there's been close to nothing.

Skye's been grounded since three weeks before her due date, so thankfully she doesn't give birth in the cargo hold, but in the medical bay of one of Shield's many secret bases.

Her labour is, according to Simmons, remarkably short. Doesn't mean it isn't sore as hell.

But, as cliched as it is, it's definitely worth it. There's a nervous sort of elation in her chest when she hold her new baby girl that, for the first time in months, squashes down the loss that's been plaguing her.

'Do you have a name?' Simmons asks her, while the baby sleeps in Skye's arms.

Skye shakes her head. 'No. Not yet.' She looks down at the little thing. 'She's so tiny,' she breathes.

'She's a perfectly healthy weight,' Simmons says.

'I know but… look at her. She's so fragile.' Skye looks up. 'What if I break her?'

Simmons gives a little laugh. 'You'll do fine. It is _perfectly natural_ to be scared.' She smiles. 'Besides, we're here to help you.'

Simmons leaves her to sleep, and at some point during the night, Skye decides her daughter's name is, beyond a doubt, Allie.

.

.

.

The first few weeks are hard, but Skye had expected nothing less.

Allie's usually a quiet baby, but she's an early riser and Skye finds herself waking up long before she'd like to.

At 5 AM sharp, Allie wakes with tiny snuffles and whines.

'You're as bad as your daddy,' she murmurs, without thinking, as she picks her daughter up. 'He always made me wake up early too.'

Allie looks up at Skye with big eyes, waiting for more, and Skye already can't refuse her. 'He would,' she coos. 'Always said it was a necessary part of my training.' She snorts. 'Don't think that this is what he thought he was training me for.'

Allie gurgles.

'Not _this_ soon,' Skye says. Maybe Ward had thought about children. He'd certainly thought about _them_.

Another gurgle.

'Of course _I_ wanted you,' Skye insists, her voice all gooey. 'You just… turned up a little quicker than I would have planned.'

She tickles her daughter's stomach.

'I love you,' she coos. 'I do. And he would too.'

.

.

.

They get roughly twenty seconds warning that Hydra is coming before they're surrounded on the little airfield where the Bus is refueling.

'Hide,' Coulson tells her. 'Now.'

She wants to protest, to tell them that she's not leaving them, but she can already hear the sound of the cargo ramp being pried open, so she does as she's told.

There's nowhere, not really, to go. She picks the bathroom, locking the door. Only one entrance and small, so hopefully defendable. And she's got her gun. She's not going to be going down without a fight.

Skye sinks down against the counter. Allie mews against her shoulder, and she murmurs little noises back to try and keep her baby quiet.

She hopes he doesn't come.

She doesn't know what she'll do if he does.

She can hear boots, tramping through the Bus. A shout of, 'Where is she?'

She pulls her gun from it's holster, flicking the safety off with one hand and shifting the weight of Allie in the other.

There's a noise right outside the bathroom, and then someone tries the door.

Shit.

Skye presses her eyes shut for a second, trying to steady herself, takes a deep breath, and aims the gun on the door.

There's one sharp bang, and the lock gives way.

_He_ steps through.

He takes one look at her, and falters. 'Skye?' he breathes.

She doesn't respond, but holds Allie a little tighter.

'Skye,' he says, and steps towards her. She flinches back, angling Allie as far from him as possible. 'Skye, the baby...'

She raises a defiant eyebrow. 'Yes?'

'Is it… mine?'

'No,' Skye says, and tries to shove him back. 'She's _mine_.'

'Skye,' he repeats. 'Skye, please just… is she ours?'

Skye's lack of reply must give him his answer. He's going pale, putting his gun away, and reaching forwards.

Skye is quite literally backed into a corner.

Not that she believes he'd hurt them.

She's not sure what she thinks he's going to do.

But he told her, nearly a year ago, that she _knew why_. And she does.

(But she can't think about that now.)

'Don't touch her,' she hisses.

'But Skye...'

'_No_. You don't get to come near her.' She repositions the gun in her hand, refusing to let it shake. She has to get him out of here _now_, before she breaks down. 'You _left_ me. You _betrayed_ us. You weren't there. You have no right to her.'

He draws back. Steps away from them.

Allie mews again, and he stills.

'Leave,' Skye spits. 'Now.'

And he does.


End file.
